


Road Yet Traveled, Lives Yet Lived

by Gileonnen



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Microfic, Tweetfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: A series of Shin/Drifter microfics.
Relationships: The Drifter/Shin Malphur
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	1. Spoiled

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me at [@gileonnen_again](https://twitter.com/gileonnen_again) to request fics of your own!

He almost can't stand these leisurely kisses--when he and Shin are lying boneless in what he's probably better off calling the aftermath than the afterglow, and Shin's lips map out his aching throat. He feels raw, fucked-out. Like he's on some unknowable edge.

He leans into it.


	2. Grasp

Drifter hits the wall with Shin's hand fisted in his collar. It knocks most of the breath out of him, and Shin drinks down the rest with a sound like desperation.

"Hey, easy, I'm fine--" Drifter says into his mouth, but Shin just grips him harder.

"Nobody kills you but me."


	3. Personal

Shin Malphur is the last curse on the lips of a lot of assholes. Some beg for mercy; some go laughing into the Dark.

The Shadows of Yor flame out golden, same as anybody else. Their ash drifts the same on the air.

Shin sights down his scope at Drifter's camp. He has the shot.

Their paths have crossed so many times that Shin wonders sometimes if they're braided, Light wrapping over and under Dark.

The sniper rifle is warm under his hands. He has the shot. He won't take it.

He'll do this close, personal. He wants to hear how Drifter will say his name.


	4. Heat

On Earth, Drifter can't get warm enough. He shivers in three layers of robes, doubles up on socks and still complains that his feet are cold.

But when they lie in Drifter's bed together, Drifter sprawled over Shin's chest like a heavy quilt, he radiates heat like the sun.


	5. Wish

The ahamkara curls around the tree limb, an iridescent oil slick of shining coils. "Shin Malphur, thrice unfathered," it whispers. "I could undo your losses."

Shin lets himself remember Jaren's eyes.

Then Trust blows its skull to flinders. "Never trust a snake," Drifter says.


	6. Dazed

Waking up was a bad idea. Drifter's head feels cracked open like a melon; his tongue tastes like sour beer. Even the dim light of the Derelict is too much.

Also, there's someone's arm thrown over his chest.

If it's Shin Fucking Malphur again, Drifter's going back to sleep.


	7. Morning

They sit up all night cocooned together--plasma shielding under ghillie nets under holoprojected thorn bushes. The silence is almost comfortable.

The target never shows.

Dawn is breaking. Shin glances over; Drifter's eyelids are drooping. He leans on his shoulder. "Tomorrow."


	8. Games

Drifter can't resist high stakes and long odds. Not really a gambler--never lets himself have anything to risk--but rolling those bones makes his blood sing.

Maybe that's why he lets Shin Malphur keep chasing, even when he starts catching up.

Feels like he has skin in the game.


	9. Mirror

Drifter's hands card through Shin's hair; his touch is cold at first, but he warms to Shin's skin. The scissors click near Shin's ears.

It's the kind of care they can show--the kind with blades.

"Take a look," says Drifter.

Shin opens his eyes on his own unfamiliar face.


	10. Needy

Isn't like he misses that little punk. Couple of guns exchanged, a few times the Renegade's saved his hide, a hot night in the belly of the Derelict--doesn't make them friends. 'Sides, Drifter has his own schemes to run.

But damn if he won't kiss Shin silly when he comes back.


	11. Tears

A silhouette is still etched on the wall. Drifter can imagine how Callum stood--proud, one hand raised. Not flinching from a bullet like the sun in a shell.

"He watched me draw," says Shin roughly. "And he nodded."

No tears fall. Drifter doesn't know what he'd do if they did.


	12. Wander

Drifter never cared for jumpships. Made you think the universe was at your fingertips--like it was small enough to understand.

A Sparrow's different. He longs for six days riding with Shin across the Shattered Plains, chest to his back, lighting campfires like stars behind them.


	13. Lick

Drifter's head hits the floor. For a second he sees stars--then he grips Shin's cloak and rolls them, pinning Shin to the ground with all his weight.

Shin grins up at him. His lip's split; his chest is heaving. Blood wells over his lip.

Drifter arches down to lick it away.


	14. Stunned

Drifter bares bloody teeth. It's nothing like a smile. "C'mon, hotshot," he coughs. "You came here to kill the big, bad Drifter, right? Got a mad on for who I used to be. It tears you up, don't it? So go on. Shoot my Ghost. Put a bullet in me. I know you ain't scared."

Shin Malphur lowers his gun. When he speaks, Drifter hears the voice of a ghost--the smoke-and-glass whisper of Dredgen Vale. "How did we come to this?" he asks, hollow. "How do we find our way out of here?"

For a long moment, Drifter says nothing. Then, "You tell me."


	15. Solemn

Shin sinks to his knees. He looks up at Drifter, eyes dark and wide as moons; the solemnity in the set of his brow makes Drifter's skin prickle.

"I want you," he whispers. "I've tried to stop--but I want you. In my mouth. Please."

It scares Drifter more than the Golden Gun.


	16. Blow

Shin's lips drag over the crown of Drifter's cock. His tongue circles the slit, a sensation so sharp that Drifter bites his own hand to smother a shout--then Shin's diving back down to take Drifter to the root. He gags; his eyes are streaming.

He looks so damn proud of himself.


	17. Smear

When Wu Ming first lays eyes on the man he'll later know as Orsa, he's sinking a knife into Wu Ming's back in the Crucible. There's a smear of his blood on Orsa's visor, just under his eye. It's the last thing he sees.

Later, Wu Ming looks up Orsa's K/D and whistles, low.


	18. Blush

The latest scribal proclamation out of the exiled Emperor's court is a real page-turner. Shin props his boots up on his ship's console, thumbing through the so-called exploits of the Man with the Golden Gun.

He notices a tiny data artifact in a comma. An old sense tingles.

Two hours later, he's cracked the scribe's cryptography, and fictional Shin Malphur's pursuit of the Drifter has taken a salacious turn.

His face heats as he bookmarks a few choice passages. Could always use ideas if he finds himself in a tight spot--or if he's looking to.


	19. Livewire

This far out on the Tangled Shore, gravity's thin and the oxygen's thinner. Drifter skins back the insulating coat on the wires and feeds in a little Solar Light to help the solder core melt, then a little Void to help it set. 

"Give 'er a jump," he calls over the comms.

Shin plunges his hands into the jumpship's guts with a flash and a crack of thunder. The lights flicker, stutter--then shudder to life.

Drifter winds some tape around the join in the wire, then closes the hatch. "Good thing you've got a mechanic," he says. "Long way home."


	20. Starve

As long as he's known the Renegade, he's never seen him with the helmet off. Hell, never even the hood.

Sometimes, he wonders what it would take to crack that shell. Bite down on the Renegade's neck; taste his sweat and come. Make him scream.

But even Drifter's not that hungry.


	21. Hush

Footfalls ring out. The Warlock Aunor paces, hunting.

In the maintenance shaft, Drifter stills with the tip of his cock in Shin's ass. He sinks his fingers deeper into Shin's mouth, and Shin sucks them down greedily.

When Shin eases back, he can't help a slow, answering thrust.


	22. Unknown

Shin fetches up like driftwood in the town of Eaton, his belly empty and Jaren's Ghost tucked away in his cloak. He takes any job they offer--baling hay, fixing fences. Anything to put glimmer in his pocket. Would've gone on his knees if anyone had asked, but no one asks. 

At night, the bartender Germaine slides him some soup before he can order. "On the house," he says.

"I can pay," Shin answers. His hands are raw from baling twine.

"Let's just call it a favor. Someday, maybe you'll owe me one."

It's kind. Shin can't afford to refuse.


	23. Vision

The flashbang goes off. Shin closes his eyes against it, but the light bleeds through, turning his vision red. He fires blind down the corridor, six shots, before his hand cannon clicks empty.

Then one percussive blast.

A hand falls on his shoulder. He flinches away.

Drifter chuckles, low, and slides a grenade launcher into his hand. "Close is good enough for horseshoes and hand grenades," he says. Shin can imagine his toothy grin, rising through the fog of red. "Try this on for size."


	24. Edging

"C'mon," Drifter snarls. "C'mon, finish it--"

Shin doesn't answer. He only traces one slick fingertip over the crown of Drifter's cock, under his foreskin, across every live-wire nerve. Drifter tenses, at the very edge of--

\--then Shin's hand falls away. Again. That _fucker_.


	25. Memories

Drifter's seen more of Shin Malphur's faces than most, but sometimes, his memories get twisted. Sometimes it's Dredgen Vale back to back with him in the Empty Tank. The Renegade, Golden Gun blazing.

Shin whispering in his ear to cast his old self aside and chase the dark.


	26. Lonely

It's been weeks since the Derelict was last sighted, just a radar blip on the apogee of Sedna's orbit. More than a month since the last Gambit match.

Drifter had spoken of apocalypse, and Shin knows the Dark will have devotees.

He has a choice.

He sets his course for Sedna.


	27. Pillow

Shin lies in the center of the bed, naked, legs spread. If he hadn't been reading a datapad, it would've been hells of enticing.

As is, Drifter says, "Scoot."

"Mm."

Drifter flops down, pillowing his head on Shin's ass. "Fine. Gonna settle in. Maybe take a nap."

"Sleep tight."


	28. Stricken

Shin drags Drifter down with him, fists wrapped in his robe, legs clenched around Drifter's waist. The weight of him sends a hot jolt of want through Shin's nerves. "Wreck me," he says--begs--between kisses.

Drifter smirks and rolls his hips. "Gonna need bigger guns for that."


	29. Solace

Sometimes Shin comes to Drifter with the life cut out of him, wild-eyed and wired like a prophet. He kisses rough, like he wants to drown himself in Drifter's mouth. Drifter tries not to think about what he must've done.

Sometimes, Shin kisses slow, sweet. Tender.

That's worse.


	30. Touch-Starved

It should disgust him--this self-righteous bastard, laying a hand on Drifter's wrist like he has the right.

But it's been so long since someone's touched him. Shin's thumb traces the knob of bone at Drifter's wrist, slow, undemanding, and every starved nerve sparks and kindles.


	31. Face

The Renegade never lets Drifter see his face, which is fine by Drifter. He knows the man by his footwork, his grip on a gun; he knows where the Renegade's been by all the bodies.

And he'd know those hands anywhere--every callus, every scar, every searing touch on his skin.


	32. Accident

A spark of yellow-hot metal spins off the flame of the cutting torch. Drifter yowls as it burns deep into his hand, swearing to every ugly Hive god the Guardians have ever killed.

As he turns down the fuel, Shin asks, dry, "Need me to kiss it better?"

"Fuck you," says Drifter.


	33. Bleed

Drifter hauls himself up on what's left of the bar. Blood drips onto the marble countertop.

He touches his head. His hand comes away wet.

"Could I--" He coughs. "Could I get a little help?"

He sees the Renegade hesitating. But when he offers his shoulder, Drifter leans on him.


	34. Haste

Shin can't peel down Drifter's pants fast enough--he sways in to drag half-starved, open-mouthed kisses over his cock through thick fabric. "Hey, hey, easy," says Drifter. "Ain't no rush--"

"Need you in my mouth," Shin grunts, and damn if things don't get urgent _real_ fast.


	35. Callous

Braga Yasuul looks down at him, eyes streaming shadow. "Hope," she says. "I need a way out. You know who's after me."

"That ain't my name," says Drifter. "And I can't help you."

"He _loves_ y--"

"If you think he'll spare you on my say-so, you don't know that bastard at all."


	36. New

Drifter looks over the sleek new hauler like he wants to kick the tires. "Plenty of cargo space," says the sales rep coaxingly. "Temperature control, sleeping pods--"

When Drifter stalks over to check out a junkheap almost as old as the Derelict, Shin chuckles, low. "Told you."


	37. Endless

They lie awake, legs entwined, talking vengeance. "Don't know if I'll ever find the end," Shin whispers.

Drifter snorts. "Ain't that hard--end it."

In the dimness, Shin gropes across Drifter's chest until he finds his hand. Warmth grows between them, cupped within their palms.


	38. Late

Shin's early to the rendezvous point--noting entrances and exits, identifying possible nearby snipers' nests. Drifter told him not to bring a gun, but there's a sidearm strapped to his thigh just in case.

The waiter refills Shin's water again. "You waiting for someone, sugar?"


End file.
